


More Than Feathers

by The_Bentley



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Has Self-Esteem Issues (Good Omens), Aziraphale Is Trying (Good Omens), Comfort, Comforting Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley is a Sweetheart (Good Omens), Cuddling & Snuggling, Healing, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Love, M/M, Mild Injury, Self-Esteem Issues, Sleepy Cuddles, Soft Crowley (Good Omens), Wing Grooming, Wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-12
Updated: 2020-05-12
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:53:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24144676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Bentley/pseuds/The_Bentley
Summary: “Oh my Go- ugh.  Are you moulting?  Is that even possible?”Crowley stared at a tangled mass of white feathers and bald patches that made it look like Aziraphale had a crash landing to rival the one of Icarus.  Angry red skin flared between patches of fluffy white.  Feathers stuck out here and there.  Coverts lay askew instead of flat like they should.  Primaries and secondaries were damaged, some to the point there was no saving the feather.  No wonder they itched.They have moved beyond friendship, but Aziraphale's self-esteem issues mean he doesn't always feel worthy of Crowley's love. To make himself perfect for his new boyfriend, the angel tries and fails at miracling his wings groomed leaving them and his mental state in need of some repair.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 19
Kudos: 203





	More Than Feathers

What a perfect day it was. There was not a cloud in the sky as Crowley flew down the motorway at one hundred ten miles per hour with no mission to complete and nothing to do but enjoy himself. Oh, this road trip was going to be so worth it. He deserved a week’s worth of relaxation.

Synching up his iPhone up to the Bentley’s stereo, his song collection came through the speakers on shuffle.

_Been beat up and battered around_   
_Been sent up, and I've been shot down_

The Travelling Wilburys. He was hoping for Bach, but this would do. The lyrics fit; he felt like he’d been put through it by his superiors lately. With a happy sigh, he settled in for the long drive to his destination. 

“Crowley!” the radio suddenly burst out in urgent tones.

“Ngk!” said Crowley, bolting upright in bed as he felt someone shake his shoulder. 

Staring back at him in the dark was a pair of sky blue eyes surrounded by a curly cloud of white-blond hair. Crowley fell back on to his perfectly fluffed down pillow with its black pillowcase, quickly pulling the ridiculously expensive bedding up with him. “What could possibly be so important that you decide to show up to interrupt my sleep in the middle of the night?”

Aziraphale shifted self-consciously, realizing now that maybe this wasn’t the best idea. But he was committed, so he soldiered on. “My wings itch.”

Courtesy of his demonic night vision, Crowley’s eyes shone in the dark like a cat’s. Aziraphale could clearly see him roll them before the light extinguished when he closed them with a low groan. 

“Your. Wings. Itch.” Crowley couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Well, at least he was sleeping in the bed tonight and not on the ceiling. That would have been embarrassing to be startled awake only to land awkwardly on the floor. He pulled the pillow next to his head over his face. “Use a miracle to solve your little issue. Now let me sleep.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, really. Please? They’re driving me mad.”

“Can I at least put some clothes on first? I’m lying here in my boxers.” Crowley pushed the pillow off his face. “It’s a bit chilly out.”

Aziraphale politely retreated to the hallway even though Crowley in his boxers was something he had seen before on many occasions. 

“How’d you get in here, anyway?” Crowley called out into the hallway as he dug in his wardrobe for his satin pyjamas. He had left the door open, a gentle reminder that Aziraphale didn’t need to worry about what he saw anymore.

“I have a key, remember? For watering your plants while you’re away on missions. Well, when we had missions, that is . . .”

Crowley made a mental note to only allow Aziraphale a key when he needed to be away for a while.

Finally dressed, he summoned the angel back in. The demon motioned to the four poster bed, an extremely large monstrosity with an impressive headboard of dark wood. The lights were on now and Aziraphale swore carved snakes twined around the bed’s posts. He really hadn’t spent that much time admiring the fine details of Crowley’s bed during the instances he had been in here.

“Sit down at the end here facing the headboard.”

Aziraphale hesitated. “Should we be doing this in your bedroom?”

Crowley nearly pulled his own hair out in frustration. “For the love of all that’s unholy, angel, just sit down. There’s no other furniture in my flat that can accommodate you when you have those wings out. We have sex on that bed and suddenly you’re being a prude!”

“But beds are for sleeping in and . . . and other things.” Aziraphale blushed a bit, his modest self still not quite at home with the whole concept of this suddenly physical relationship. Crowley paying any kind of attention to him was something to be marvelled at. That he wanted to be with him in a physical sense was a subject Aziraphale didn’t even dare think about for fear it would turn negative.

“Yes, other things like scratching someone’s itchy wings. I promise not to seduce you unless you ask nicely. Please, sit.” 

How could one angel be so incredibly annoying and overwhelmingly adorable all at the time? Crowley wanted to yell at him one moment then kiss him all over the next. Nothing ate up his patience like Aziraphale at times. This silly, fussy, prim and proper being who had so completely stolen his heart that he would even entertain scratching his wings for him in the middle of the night after he broke into his flat. 

He gestured to the bed, Aziraphale finally agreeing. Taking off his coat and placing it on a nearby chair upholstered in black fabric, Aziraphale sat down on the plush mattress, legs crossed, back to Crowley who stood at the foot of it waiting.

Two large white wings unfurled, their feathers brushing the bed posts as they did so. Crowley let out what Aziraphale could only adequately describe as a strangled cry. He looked over his shoulder the best he could with the extra appendages in his way.

“What?” asked Aziraphale in that faux innocent voice he used when he wished to extend plausible deniability. It never worked with Crowley.

“Oh my Go- ugh. Are you _moulting_? Is that even possible?” 

Crowley stared at a tangled mass of white feathers and bald patches that made it look like Aziraphale had a crash landing to rival the one of Icarus. Angry red skin flared between patches of fluffy white. Feathers stuck out here and there. Coverts lay askew instead of flat like they should. Primaries and secondaries were damaged, some to the point there was no saving the feather. No wonder they itched. Crowley’s own perfectly preened wings tucked away in the ethereal plane started to tingle with unpleasant feelings from just looking at them.

“I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?” he asked in awe over the mess he was witnessing in front of him.

“All I did was try to miracle them groomed!”

“I think you over did it.” 

The demon was circling around taking in the sight. Aziraphale never preened his wings. Crowley always had to remind him to get it done or do it for him during one of their long cuddle sessions. Aziraphale would sit reading on some pillows on the floor of the bookshop while Crowley got rid of excess energy working on his wings, knowing the activity would aid in strengthening their bond.

“Those are miracle burns, Aziraphale. You hit parts of them with too much magic. I can’t heal them with my powers, I’ll just end up making it worse.” A tube of burn gel appeared in his hand. “We’re going to have to do this part the hard way. At least until that skin’s soothed enough I can heal it without causing you excruciating pain.”

“I only wanted them to look as good as they do when you groom them. For our date tomorrow.”

“Oh, angel . . . you would have looked beautiful to me anyway. You don’t need to do extra work on them.”

He felt Crowley very carefully applying the gel, the thick substance instantly soothing the skin as it was slathered on. Oh, blessed relief! He sat stock still for several minutes while he was ministered to. Crowley put the tube down about five minutes later, carefully inspecting all parts of Aziraphale’s damaged wings for any missed areas.

“I think I got all the spots. How do they feel?”

“Wonderfully numb. Thank you, my dear.” Aziraphale started to winch them back in only to feel Crowley grab a hold of one in an uninjured area. “What are you doing?” Aziraphale asked, puzzled.

“Don’t you think you’re off the hook yet. They’re such a mess it’s no wonder you’re itching like mad. Fold them in. I’m going to start with the fronts.”

Aziraphale felt Crowley gently stretch his left wing straight out behind him. 

“Hold that there.”

The demon walked to his side where he got to work straightening feathers. Ignoring the flight feathers for now, he started flattening the coverts that were left, working from the bottom up. Aziraphale suddenly broke out in laughter as Crowley combed through them. The demon gave him an annoyed look.

“That tickles!”

“Seriously? Do you want me to get them cleaned up or not?”

“This was your idea.”

“You’re the one itching because you plucked yourself almost bald using a miracle and somehow ruffled the rest. Hold still. You woke me up, you’re going to have to suffer through a grooming now.”

Crowley got back to it, carefully this time so not to tickle Aziraphale further as getting whacked in the face with an angel wing was not on his list of things to have happen to him today. Feather by feather, he got what was left of Aziraphale’s pitiful wing back into shape. About a half hour passed before Aziraphale began to twitch. Crowley tapped the top of the wing lightly with a finger as a reminder to hold still, causing the angel to jump in surprise.

“Ow!”

“Oh, that didn’t hurt. Hold still.”

“It’s starting to fall asleep, so yes, that did hurt,” complained Aziraphale, feeling pins and needles race along the bones, made worse unknowingly by Crowley’s light pat.

“You need to tell me when you need a break.” Crowley marched to Aziraphale’s right side, pushing down the irritation he was starting to feel, but not before a little leaked out. “We’ll work on this wing a bit and go back to other later. Why do I put up with you?”

“Well, one time you told me it’s because it gets frustrating befriending mortals when all they do is up and die on you,” Aziraphale replied, finding himself quite enjoying the preening now as his feathers were one by one laid flat by Crowley’s work. He didn’t realize how painful a skewed feather could actually be.

“No, Aziraphale. It’s because I love you.”

The demon watched the side of Aziraphale’s face he could see turn a bright red in response. He chuckled, then quieted himself as he saw his partner start to fidget with his hands while they lay in folded in his lap in front of him.

“How can someone like you possibly love someone like me?” Aziraphale asked quietly. “Look at what I did to myself.”

Crowley stopped his grooming to cuddle up close to the distressed angel and stroke his blond curls soothingly. His tone was soft when he replied. “Sometimes you don’t make it easy, but what we have is worth it. Now just relax and let me work.” 

It was quiet for a while until Aziraphale started to fidget again.

Crowley let go of the wing he was working on. “Ok, stretch that other wing out again. Two more rounds and we can move on to the backs.” He switched positions again, brushing his slim hands off as he moved. Using a miracle to preen didn’t get rid of all the dust caught up in Aziraphale’s wings. 

So it went . . . back and forth . . . back and forth . . . until all of Aziraphale’s coverts were dust-free and laying flat on both sides of his wings. Now Crowley had to deal with the more difficult task of getting those miracle-damaged primaries and secondaries up to his high standards. He grabbed a hold of a feather so broken it would cost him less power to convince Aziraphale’s wing to grow a new one than repair it. He pulled downwards, plucking the primary out of its follicle. Had the full length of it been there, it would have been nearly as long as he was tall.

“Ow! What the hell are you doing?”

“Serious repair work since you’ve mangled your wings so spectacularly.” There was a pause. “Oh. Sorry. I forgot to numb everything first.” Aziraphale felt an apology in the form of a kiss being placed at the nape of his neck. 

“Couldn’t you just have vanished it?” he asked, patting Crowley’s hand in response.

“I told you I’m not comfortable pouring too much power into such miracle-damaged wings. I’ll use some to numb the feathers I pluck and to regrow them but that’s it.”

“Please, do what you have to.”

Crowley yanked out another primary, this one the length of his arm and in complete tatters, waving it in front of Aziraphale, his distress showing. “Please don’t do this again? Come to me first?”

Aziraphale swallowed and nodded. “I will from now on, my love.”

Much intense work on Crowley’s part later one wing was finished, gleaming white as snow in the bedroom light. Coverts lay flat. Hopeless feathers were pulled and new ones grown in. The ones that could easily be repaired were. Gel shined on the red bald spots, starting to heal the damage done. Crowley allowed Aziraphale to take a much-needed break before moving on to the other one, working until that wing, too, shone with perfection as much as it could under the circumstances.

“There, done. You can put them away. Now get off my bed. I really need to lie down.”

He didn’t wait for Aziraphale to move before flopping down sideways on it up near the pillows. 

“Thank you.” Aziraphale tucked his wings back into the ethereal plane. “For taking care of my very stupid mistake. I’m sorry I always get myself into such messes.”

Crowley turned his head to look at him, the tiredness evident in his eyes. “Don’t say that, angel. You’re not stupid and I hate when you say so. Mistakes happen. Even if I get frustrated at times, I still love you. I’ll do what I can to help you fix things. So, want to stay here and cuddle?”

“I’d like that very much.”

Crowley heaved himself up off the bed, putting out a hand for Aziraphale that was graciously accepted. Pulling down the expensive bedcovers once again, he gallantly gestured for his angel to get into the bed’s soft fluffiness before he did. Aziraphale raised a finger.

“Half a moment.” Aziraphale stripped down to his shirt and pants, leaving everything else folded tidily on the nearby chair where he had neatly placed his coat earlier.

Crowley smiled, drinking in all of his wonderful angel from his kindhearted smile to his delightfully full thighs. Taking him in his arms, he helped him up into the bed, scooting in after him to snuggle up as close as he could, almost sprawling across his body. Aziraphale accepted this. Crowley was a touch-oriented being and Aziraphale was learning to appreciate this physical manifestation of the demon’s adoration.

“I love you, angel,” Crowley murmured. “Don’t ever doubt that and don’t ever doubt yourself.”

He reached over to give him the most devoted kiss while lying tangled up with the one being he had ever loved in his life, trying to show him through this one affectionate act that he was worth every aggravation. Aziraphale hummed with pleasure, the sound buzzing against Crowley’s lips.

He felt it as Crowley shifted, rising above him and starting at the top of his head. Gently the demon placed his lips on the angel’s golden curls, leaving the barest of kisses there before moving down to place a more perceptible one right on his forehead, Crowley’s favourite spot of all to give comforting kisses. Then a loving one was placed on each of Aziraphale’s cheeks followed by the tip of his nose. Aziraphale’s sky blue eyes closed in appreciation, his hands coming up to stroke lovingly across Crowley’s back. Crowley moved on to his lips, starting chaste with a few well-placed smooches then becoming more daring.

The demon possessed more than snake-like eyes. His tongue was abnormally long for a human’s mouth and a lot more flexible as well. Questioningly he placed it against Aziraphale’s mouth asking if he wanted more and Aziraphale responded by allowing him inside. Flicking his tongue in, Crowley tasted his partner as Aziraphale explored his mouth in return, the kiss somehow remaining loving without edging into passionate. The demon felt hands tighten on his back before they traveled further south to caresses sensitive parts of his hips.

“Angel . . .” The kissing let up only momentarily then continued downwards with Crowley concentrating on covering Aziraphale’s jawline with the tiniest of pecks, teasing little ones that had the angel exhaling softly. “You’re too damn delectable. I should be sleeping.”

“You don’t need to do anything, my dear.”

But Crowley was on to his neck now, indulgent kisses intermingled with tentative licks, everything kept gentle because Aziraphale _needed_ this. Needed the softness, the comfort, the boost to his confidence. He needed to know he was loved and that would never change. It didn’t matter what his wings looked like or that his fashion sense was stuck in 1864, or even that his plumpness meant some wouldn’t find him as attractive as Crowley did. He was flawless in the demon’s eyes and Crowley so desperately wanted him to realize that. 

The demon raised his head to smile at him, his hand stroking along that cherubic cheek as Aziraphale opened his eyes to gaze back at him. Another kissed was placed on the tip of his upturned nose and Aziraphale returned a loving one on Crowley’s well-defined cheek. 

“I do need to do something. I need to let you know that you’re perfect. I need to find the way to tell you that so you’ll believe me when I say you are beautiful.”

He started unbuttoning the angel’s shirt, laying it open so he could continue his demonstration of love. Skipping a fingertip down his chest, Crowley finally leaned over to lay a trail of kisses over the plump curve of his stomach, ending by circling his bellybutton with them. Then he just laid his head there, hands reaching up to stroke in the vicinity of Aziraphale’s ribs.

“You’re warm and soft and wonderful.”

“I am? I really don’t feel wonderful.”

“Shhh. Yes, you are.”

Aziraphale reached out, his hand brushing what of Crowley’s hair he could reach. The demon sighed in contentment. He wished to remain like this until the cosmos collapsed upon itself and a new one began. He would stay there watching the stars being rebuilt, loving his angel and receiving his love in return.

“Do you want more, my dear?” Aziraphale’s voice cut through Crowley’s reverie, but he didn’t mind. It was the one sound he wanted to always hear just as Aziraphale was the one being he wanted to always dream of.

“I’m happy with this. We’re going at your pace because I love you and want you to feel comfortable with what we do.”

Aziraphale sensed the love Crowley had for him, being encouraged by it. Yet he never felt worthy, not in all his time of being Heaven’s field agent. He tried. Oh, he tried, but it was never good enough for Gabriel or the others. He attempted to not let it bother him anymore, but six thousand years of constantly doing whatever it took to appease those who never appreciated his efforts didn’t disappear overnight, no matter how hard Crowley tried to lift him up and make him feel like a worthwhile person. 

But he had to start thinking he was worthwhile because he now had something real with Crowley, who loved him above all else in the universe. If a demon could overcome the outright belief of both sides in hereditary enemies enough to fall for an angel, then that angel had to have a special kind of value.

 _I am worthy of love._ It was an epiphany that caused his walls to crumble.

“I love you, too, Crowley.” Aziraphale cuddled back in, encouraging Crowley to wrap around him again, pulling up the covers that had been disturbed as Crowley covered his body in kisses. “Now you sleep. Anything else can wait until morning. In fact, I think maybe I’ll try to sleep, too. I’ve always wondered what you see in it.”

“You’re welcome to try. You know me . . . not one to discourage a little sloth in an angel.”

Aziraphale chuckled. “Come here. Give me one last kiss until we wake.”

“You don’t have to ask me twice.”

Their lips joined in one last loving gentle kiss as hands stroked through each others’ hair before both settled down on the pillows. Aziraphale shifted just so slightly, his head now lying on Crowley’s chest where he could listen to the rhythm of his heartbeat as he tried to sleep for the first time. Crowley’s arms embraced him, prepared to hold him through the night in an adoring comforting hug. 

“Good night, angel. I hope you do enjoy a little shut-eye. Dreams are amazing, you know.”

“Good night, my love. May you dream of whatever you love best.”

With a lazy wave, Crowley turned out the light. Bathed in the moonlight streaming through the window, the two settled in for the rest of the night, both of them remaining still in each other’s arms until morning.

Aziraphale awoke the next day to sunlight warming his face with its bright light as it streamed through the partially open blinds in a striped pattern that marched across both him and Crowley. Blinking away the groggy feeling, he sent a small miracle to shut them completely, feeling Crowley stir slightly in response to his movements. 

He pulled himself off the demon’s chest to greet him with the first kiss of the morning. “Hello, my dear.”

“Morning, angel. Did you?”

“Yes and it was divine. I might sleep more often.” He settled back down refusing to give up the warm bed and coziness he was feeling by lying here on Crowley’s chest where he could almost feel the love beating right out of the demon’s heart just for him. “I dreamed of lying in a grassy field watching the most fluffy clouds float by.”

“I’m glad you had a good dream.” 

Crowley nudged him slightly, the covers coming down to let in the chilly late morning air. Aziraphale grumbled in protest, grasping for them as they moved out of the range of his fingers. He was coaxed into sitting up by one concerned demon who wanted to check on his healing wings. A finger was run down his spine as soft breath puffed on the back of his neck, followed by delicate nibbles that sent minor surges of pleasure through his body.

“We’ll play in a bit, angel of mine,” whispered Crowley in his ear. “Let me see if I need to add more cream to those patches. C’mon. Out with the wings.”

Aziraphale scooted forward to manifest them, waiting patiently while Crowley went over every inch of them in fine detail. Cream was added to a couple of spots then Aziraphale was instructed to put them away. He found himself being toppled carefully over on the bed by Crowley, who started up his worship-through-kisses all over again.

The demon helped him out of his shirt then Aziraphale began unbuttoning his pyjamas with slow, steady dedication, not wanting to rush. Opening it up to reveal Crowley’s soft inviting skin, he did a little worship of his own, leaving grateful kisses from neck to navel, listening to Crowley vocalize his pleasure in response. Pure music. Aziraphale smiled between kisses. Crowley loved him. Truly loved him despite all his faults. He didn’t need perfect wings to be worthy to him. He just needed to be himself.

 _Yes,_ he thought as the two of them adoringly kissed and caressed each other under the covers. _I am worthy of love._


End file.
